


A Game

by directionlessbuthappy



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/directionlessbuthappy/pseuds/directionlessbuthappy
Summary: An anon request from tumblr about a lovely husband and a lovely wife and an ungodsly amount of teasing...Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex





	A Game

You hummed warmly as you watched your eldest son try to awkwardly chat with the girl from Haffangar. She wasn’t too far away, just a village over from Hadeby…if Asgeir really liked her perhaps she could even-

“My love?”

“Hmm?” you asked, turning your head slightly. You refused to give him your whole face. Admittedly, you were eager to see if the girl would laugh. Asgeir was witty and sharp; hopefully he worked on a bit of humor in his time being a sarcastic son of Ivar.

“You’re staring that girl to stone. Why not pay me a bit of attention hm?”

“Asgeir has never liked a girl before,” you replied quietly, as if saying his name would alert your son to know you were watching. He was your eldest son, 13 and nearly a man, but your only thought was…girls? Already?

“My son has liked girls before,” Ivar scoffed. He ran a soothing hand over your dress where your leg was. “Just none he would bring to his mother…”

Your hands remained folded in your lap; Ivar sought to undo them. He wiggled and pried while you clasped them tighter. He would not distract you even if he faced a bit of neglect.

“Ivar, hands off. I’m listening,” you snorted. This contorted his face into a frown of irritance.

“Am I not to enjoy my wife?”

“Perhaps later,” you replied shortly with a little innocent shrug. Ivar growled and dove a hand under the table to look for the hem of your skirt. With this you leaned forward, effectively trapping his hand while you picked up your chalice. When you sat properly up, you gave his hand a small pinch, making the viking warlord nearly yelp like a dog with its tail stepped on.

The whole night you spent watching, nestled into your husband’s lap as the party unfolded. Ivar was never much for feasts like this. He was never a very social person unless talking about war, and even if he was, moving around in crowded spaces was difficult and his pain would become so much worse by bedtime. So he opted to stay in his chair, and you in his lap…it was almost perfect. But he had to watch you. Feel you shift on his lap, see your hair bounce every time you laughed, watch your lips shape around your cup. His perfect little wife, perched in his lap, every curve and tight angle in her body accentuated in that dress…and he couldn’t have any of it. His pawing continued but you did not give in. In fact, he could swear by the gods he caught you smirking at him at one point… It wasn’t mockery. It was a game.

A game you loved to play not because you would win…but because Ivar refused to lose.

“Ivar, what is it?” you asked sweetly, popping berries in your mouth. Ivar grit his teeth, wanting to kiss those reddened lips. They were practically his after all… He took your jaw in his hand but you wriggled away with a wave of your neck.

As the night wore down and everyone became either too drunk, or managed to stagger out of the hall, that was your cue. You stood up from your spot in Ivar’s lap quiet dramatically. He swallowed watching you bow to some of your guests and carefully skip around the hall gathering up your boys. Once you had all three of them in your clutches you went up to Ivar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Coming along, husband?” you asked playfully. Ivar stared up at you with a seething look. For a moment you thought he was angry, but that couldn’t be. He smiled and flicked his hand.

“You go. Let me finish.”

You grinned and knew what that meant. With your train of boys, little Sigfast (only 3 at the time) in your arms, you strut home across from the Great Hall. As their mother, you tucked each of them in and spent a bit of time with Asgeir trying to weasel out some information on the little blonde girl he was chatting with, as a mother does…

After they were all sufficiently snoring and you blew out the last candle, you went to the living quarter at the front of your giant home. Ivar built this place himself with a little brotherly help. You reminisced about the stone he spent days layering around the fire pit when a candle sparked to life near the front door.

Ivar flicked out the ash and stomped it once on the floor. Cinders in the fireplace hissed, and that one candle gave just enough light for you to see his face.

“You’re lucky you didn’t frighten me,” you said with a tilted chin. Ivar kept an axe above the fireplace, always.

“Like you could fear me…” he said.

“Maybe I do.”

“Why?” he asked with a bored smile. He knew why.

“Because…”

“Because you’ve escaped my embrace all night? Because I haven’t been able to taste,” he took a step forward, “or touch my wife all night?”

You didn’t want to laugh. The sound did not emit, but your lips shifted into what would have been a giggle. With this Ivar carefully walked towards you, stopped to lift your chin so you could face him.

“You think its funny I am so desperate to have you?”

“You have always been relentless, my love,” you replied thoughtfully. “I just prefer you…more relentless tonight.”

Ivar shrugged. “Wish granted.”

His lips crashed onto yours rather forcefully. His kiss was tender and hot, gentle to start out…then you felt his tongue, his teeth, his hand grasping the front of your dress and yanking it so hard the strings loosened. The green wool fell off of you in a pile while you pulled away Ivar’s vest. His crutch collapsed with your dress somewhere; you both slid over fur lain in front of the fireplace, Ivar on top of you.

“My beautiful wife…” he sighed into your mouth. You shift to help him out of his pants, crawling on top of him at the opportunity. The fire crackles behind your profiles as you grin down at him.

“The game is not over my love…” you lowered your head to be closer to him. Having the advantage of top was always fun for you.

“Isn’t it?” Ivar whispered. A quick pull of your wrist and suddenly you land on your back, Ivar leaning over you on his elbows. He shifted his hips against you and smiled as how wide your eyes became. And how wet your thighs were.

“I have wanted you all night,” he grunted. “And now I have you…”

With that, he nibbled on your ear to distract you and entered you in one stride to the hilt. You grunted, moaning quietly between your bitten lip. Ivar’s thrusts remained deep, rocking his hips against you in a frenzy. Whispers of “mine” accompanied by swearing sang in your ears as you sunk your teeth into Ivar’s neck in gratitude. His flurry of movement sparked your orgasm. Over and over it sparked within you, crackling to life as you began to breathe faster and tighten around him. One leg came over Ivar’s lower back in encouragement; your husband kissed you hard for it.

Before you even had the chance to concede in your game, Ivar came with a roar, sitting up and pulling your hips to him bruisingly tight. Heat spread within you like wildfire. You bit your palm, quivering and whining in protest. You were nearly finished…so close, and he was so deep…

“You know…what I want,” he growled breathlessly, his animal state still yet to settle. Ivar stayed deep inside, taking a finger to your clit and pressing down.

“I-Ivar…please…”

“Ah ah…” He pinched your clit, making you cry out in a mix of agony and pleasure.

“I am yours,” you squealed. Ivar smiled widely, voraciously…he’d won. Just like he always did.

“You will…” he grunted, thrusting in as his fingers circled your clit hungrily. “Never.” Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm returned with a fury, washing over you like your skin was on fire. “ever, ignore me again.”

Twitching and shuddering while you breathed you managed to slowly come to reason. Ivar had pulled out of you and slumped to your side. Curling around you like the cusp of the moon, he brushed some clinging hair from your face. 

“Never,” you sighed in agreement. Ivar kissed your forehead peacefully. He’d tame you time and time again…perhaps you’d listened this time and learned not to tease him again. 

Either way, he loved you, obedient or not.


End file.
